


he built a fire just to keep me warm

by babyboytroye



Category: Unspecified Fandom
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Fluff, M/M, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-29 17:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyboytroye/pseuds/babyboytroye
Summary: “I’m okay.” He whispered brokenly to himself, shaking hand reaching up to roughly grab onto the skin on his neck. He gasped for breath and closed his eyes tightly, remembering a time when it was his hand gently holding onto his neck, his soft lips placing sweet kisses onto his full lips. He remembers everything.“I’m okay.” He tries to reassure himself as he lowers himself in front of the toilet, hand reaching up to shove his fingers down his throat to empty the contents of his stomach.He’s okay.





	1. Prologue

Timothée Chalamet has always been a happy kid. His childhood was fantastic and so full of love and everything a child’s life should be. He’s always said it, but he got so incredibly lucky. He has the most amazing, supportive parents in the world. His family is beautiful.

 

Acting is something he wasn’t forced into. He didn’t grow up with parents who pushed him into this career he didn’t want to be in. This has always been _his_ passion.

 

He didn’t grow up in the spotlight, which was also a good thing. He was able to have a childhood and go to school like a normal kid and experience normal kid things. He didn’t have cameras and yelling paparazzi following him everywhere. He didn’t grow up seeing his name on the front cover of magazines. His life was perfect, and he wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

 

He doesn’t know when it started to not be okay.

 

He doesn’t know who to blame or what to change, because it happened so _suddenly_. One minute he was the happiest he had ever been in his life, and the next he was letting older men fuck him into dirty mattresses he wasn’t familiar with and kneeling in front of toilets to empty the contents of his stomach.

 

Suddenly he was sad and lonely. Suddenly he didn’t want to socialize at award shows and smile for the cameras. He just shut down- lost himself in the midst of the high.

 

Sometimes, he blames it on love.

 

He blames it on _him_. A dark and twisted side of him sometimes wonders what his life would have been like if he never met _him_.

 

He pinches his stomach sharply at the thought. _How could he ever think something like that? Armie was the most amazing, supportive person in his life._

 

Even though it was true, Armie is also the reason Timothée cries at night and can’t sleep. It’s _his_ face he pictures and _his_ lips he feels against his own. He can’t escape him. He is the reason why he hates himself as much as he does; why he skips meals until he finds himself passed out on his bathroom floor. It’s all his fault.

 

He hates loves him so much, so fucking much it hurts.

 

—————

 

_“I promise I will visit soon.”_

 

His promise to Harper plays over and over in his head that it’s starting to give him a headache. He’s taken four painkillers to rid himself of the pain and his eyes are beginning to feel heavy. _I promise I will visit soon._

 

He hates himself so much for lying to her like that.

 

_“Are you feeling okay, Timmy?”_

 

_“Yes.” ~~No~~._

 

He hates himself even more at the thought of Elizabeth’s kindness towards him. He doesn’t deserve her love and concern. He doesn’t deserve to be in this beautiful family’s lives. He doesn’t deserve anything good at all.

 

He deserves to be here wallowing in his own self-hatred and pain, lying in his cold bathtub in his shoebox apartment.

 

He deserves the hunger pains and dizzy spells. He reaches over to dig his nails into his arm harshly. _He deserves that too._

 

It’s not enough though.

 

What he actually deserves is to starve until his body is too weak to get up from bed. Maybe if he’s lucky enough he’ll die in that bed too.

 

 _“My mind is so fucked up.”_ He laughs bitterly to himself.

 

He doesn’t deserve anyone. He deserves to die alone in this tiny apartment in this sad and _lonely_ city.

 

He wonders if anyone would find his dead body, and how long it would take for anyone to notice he was dead. His eyes glance at the bottle of painkillers sitting on the bathroom counter and he almost reaches over to take a handful of them, _almost_.

 

But then he thinks about how selfish that would be. He thinks about his mom and his sister finding his body, he can hear their loud sobs ringing through his head. He thinks about the phone call between his mom and Armie. He can see Armie screaming and punching walls and inflicting pain upon himself.

 

He doesn’t want that. If anyone should be in pain it should be _him_. He wishes no one cared about him so then he could just end it all and be done with it; but he’s got people to look after.

 

So tonight, he’ll just pass out in his bathtub and dream about gentle blue eyes and a beautiful 6’5” man.


	2. Chapter One

“Harder.” Timothèe panted out quietly, body jolting forward at each thrust from the older man behind him.

 

The man growled in acknowledgement, hips snapping up even harsher than before. Sweat glistened their bodies and the only sounds that could be heard in the tiny apartment was the sound of skin slapping against skin and Timothèe’s high-pitched cries. He could feel a burning sensation in between his legs and exhaustion running through his body.

 

 _“Good. Make me forget.”_ He thinks to himself as the man leaned down to harshly suck at the skin on his neck. Timothèe winced slightly, hand reaching up to pull at the nameless man’s hair.

 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” The man wheezed out as his eyes raked down Timothée’s young, lithe frame.

 

Timothèe shut his eyes tightly and imagined that sentence coming out from Armie’s mouth. His breath hitched slightly at the familiar warm feeling bubbling in his stomach.

 

_Armie Armie Armie_

 

He chants his name over and over in his head as the man’s movements began to get sloppier, harsher. He reaches a hand up to grip at the sheets, groans escaping his lips as the man shoved his face into his neck and came.

 

_Armie Armie Armie_

 

———————————————————

He doesn’t think he can make it up the stairs.

 

He’s stopped on the second floor of his apartment building, leaning heavily against the railing while taking deep breaths. The room is spinning and his mind is foggy and he can’t seem to go on any longer.

 

It feels like he’s _dying_.

 

There’s sweat glistening his forehead and soaking his curly, long hair. His eyes are rimmed red and he can’t seem to stop _shaking_.

 

His body is giving up and there’s a sick and twisted part of him that prays that it does. He doesn’t want to keep going. He doesn’t want to be here any more.

 

 _“Think about them, Timmy.”_ He thinks to himself, and he does. He thinks about his beautiful mom and his beautiful sister and his wonderful, loving family. He thinks about his friends and his coworkers and he even thinks about the cute little old man that lives right down the hall from him.

 

He thinks about _Armie_ , beautiful and caring Armie. He thinks about how much he loves him and how much it would tear him apart if something happened to him.

 

 _“He doesn’t care about you, Timothèe. You’re just a little boy to him.”_ He flinches at his dark thoughts and a shiver runs down his spine at the sound of it. It sounds too much like his own voice.

 

He groans quietly at the sharp pain in his stomach and the loud, hungry noise that it makes. _God, why is he always hungry?_

 

Food is bad.

Living is bad.

_Kill yourself._

 

He shakes his head wildly and begins to stand up slowly. It takes him a couple of tries before he can fully stand on his own without the support of the railing. One painful step at a time he makes his way up the stairs and into his tiny apartment. He’s breathless and weak and his skin is clammy and his body cannot stop _shaking_. He falls to the floor with a cry and just lays there, body shaking with tremors.

 

“I’m okay.” He tries to convince himself. He chants it over and over, louder and louder as if to try and block out the voices screaming in his head. They tell him to do things and say things that make him cry until he can’t breathe. They make him feel unloveable, tainted in a way that nobody wants to touch him. _Armie_ doesn’t want to touch him.

 

He feels sick all of a sudden, so sick and nauseous and dizzy. Everything happens so _suddenly_ he notices.

 

His body begins to break out in a cold sweat and he starts to convulse. He’s sobbing loudly now as he fights down the urge to vomit everywhere. _Please stop. Please stop. Please stop._

 

Then he’s violently dry heaving and throwing up the little he has in his stomach. His body jolts so harshly and tears fall silently from his eyes as he lets it happen.

 

He always just lets it happen.

 

His nails claw at the floor and he gasps at the burning sensation in his throat. He reaches a hand up to claw at it, leaving bright red scratches in its path.

 

_I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay._

 

He frowns at the pile of acid on the floor and his eyes focus on the tints of red that is mixed with it. _Holy shit, he was actually dying._

 

Finally, he collapses heavily onto the floor. He is too weak to think about the pile of his own vomit he’s lying in and he’s too tired to get up and lay in his bed. His body will not stop shaking and his mind will not stop spinning. He’s taking shallow, short breaths and it’s beginning to make him lightheaded. He closes his eyes and imagines arms holding him and carrying him to bed. He can almost hear a voice whispering soothing words into his ear and soft lips pressing kisses anywhere they can reach.

 

_He needs Armie._

 


	3. Chapter Two

“ _Timmy_?” Timothèe let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, hand reaching up to gently touch the smile that spread across his lips.

 

“Armie, hi.” Timothèe spoke softly. He felt a sense of calmness wash over his body at the sound of his deep voice. He didn’t know how badly he needed to hear it until he spoke his name.

 

“How are you, buddy?”

 

“Not good.” He wanted to say. He wanted to tell Armie _everything_. He wanted to tell him about how he can’t sleep at night because of the voices in his head. He wanted to tell him about the scorching hot showers he took to punish himself and the rough sex he had so he can feel something, _anything_. He wants to tell him about all of the times he’s passed out in his apartment and how many times he’s hit his head on his hardwood floor. “ _Tell him_.”

 

“I’m doing great, man.” He chooses to lie instead. There’s a moment of silence. He flinches at the harshness of it.

 

“I hope you know you can tell me anything.” Timothèe flinches at that. He can’t even lie. Is he capable of doing anything? “I’m always here to talk.” He says it in the most gentlest of voices, it makes Timothèe’s body feel warm and for once it’s a good feeling that passes through it.

 

Lie. “Sheesh, I know that. No need to get all serious.” He tries to cut the tension he feels between them.

 

“I saw pictures.” Armie interrupts. Timothèe’s body runs cold, the warm feeling he had felt before leaving his body. “Of you, well the person I saw looked like you, but they looked like a ghost of you.” Armie let out a loud sigh, causing Timothèe to flinch slightly. How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that?

 

“What?-“

 

“Fuck, I don’t make any sense.” Timothèe let’s out a nervous laugh. Armie takes a deep breath on the other side of the receiver, letting it out slowly. Timothèe listens carefully, breathing silently with him. Breathe.

 

“I miss you.” He manages to let out after he’s calmed his breathing. He hears Armie exhale sharply.

 

“Oh, Timmy. I miss you so much.” He closes his eyes tightly, grip tightening around his phone. He doesn’t realize his body is shaking uncontrollably until his teeth begin to chatter; and then he’s crying. He’s crying so loudly, the sound echoes throughout his small apartment. “Hey. Hey, talk to me.”

 

Timothèe shakes his head while another ugly sob rips from his chest. He feels himself shutting down and his head growing foggy as the seconds tick by. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

 

“Did I ever tell you about the story of the most beautiful boy I’ve ever met?”

 

Well, that did the trick. “No.” He hiccups quietly. His brows furrow and he turns green with jealousy.

 

“Wow- I can’t believe I’ve been keeping this from you. I was positive everyone knew about him by now.” Timothèe shakes his head at his words.

 

“Who is he?” He hears Armie snort out a laugh. He almost growls at the sound. This wasn’t funny.

 

“I met him in what I thought was the most beautiful place on earth, Crema. I remember landing and feeling the heat as soon as I stepped off the plane. I truly believed it was the most stunning thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t stop taking pictures, I probably looked like a real jackass. So I took a cab to the location where I’d be filming the most important film of my life, and I literally could not stop shaking the whole ride there. Everyone had talked so highly of him, I just wanted to meet him for myself. When I got there, they told me he was taking one of his piano lessons and that I shouldn’t disturb him— but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to meet the person I would be falling in love with.” Timothèe sniffled as he let a small smile ghost his lips. “They told me where he was and I bursted through that door and as soon as my eyes landed on him, I knew it wouldn’t be hard to fall in love with him — hell, I don’t believe in love at first sight but when I first saw him I truly believed I fell in love a little. Then he opened his mouth and spoke and smiled at me and I came to the conclusion that he was truly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever saw.”

 

“Armie.” Timothèe whispered into the receiver softly. He closed his eyes and let the tears fall silently. What did he do to deserve him in his life?

 

“I knew right then and there I had to protect him. He is too beautiful, to special for this world that we live in. I will protect you, Timmy.” He paused, taking another breath before continuing. “But I need you to tell me what’s going on. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s happening.”

 

“I don’t know what’s happening, Armie. Suddenly, I don’t feel like me anymore.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Timothèe shrugged before continuing. “I don’t know what I mean, that’s why it’s hard to talk about it.”

 

A silence fell upon them and the only sound that could be heard was their soft breathing through the phone. Timothèe dug his nails into his leg in nervousness. Does Armie think he’s crazy now?

 

“Look, man — I’m sorry for calling you.”

 

“You’re so skinny, Timmy.”

 

His breath hitched at those words and his hand self consciously reached up to squeeze the extra skin on his stomach.

 

“No, I’m not.”

 

“Do I need to go out there and take care of you?” Timothèe managed to breath out a small no, heart hammering in his chest at the thought. He can’t know. “Or do I need to call your mom?”

 

“No! — don’t do that.” He rushed out. He let out a defeated sigh. “I got sick with the flu last month. Ever since then it’s just been really hard for me to eat. I lost my appetite.”

 

“That’s not healthy, sweetheart.”

 

“I know.”

 

Timothèe could feel the concern from the other man. He didn’t mean to make him worry. “Promise me you’ll take better care of yourself.”

 

“Armie —“

 

“Promise me, please.”

 

Timothèe licked his dry lips and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at the scale lying on the floor in his bathroom and looked at his journal where all of his calories were written down in. He then looked in the mirror that hung on his wall. He looked at the fat clinging onto his body and his arms and his legs and his hideous body. He couldn’t stop.

 

He’d never stop.

 

“I promise.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for all of your lovely comments! I’ve never had so many comments on the first chapter of one of my works before so thank you.


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